


Necessary Secrets

by Morgyn Leri (morgynleri)



Series: Archer, Battle-Mage, Trickster, and Warrior [6]
Category: Norse Mythology, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fix-It, GFY, Gen, Post-Movie(s), gratuitous abuse of mythology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-17
Updated: 2013-01-17
Packaged: 2017-11-25 21:35:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/643208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morgynleri/pseuds/Morgyn%20Leri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Lies are a necessity at times." Hel sighs, closing her eyes a moment before she follows her uncle's gaze. "As is flattery. But I should hope never among close kin as we."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Necessary Secrets

_She watches from her throne, the seiðr twining about her fingers that trails off into tenuous threads that are all but invisible to most, but not weak for all their delicate appearance. The man Coulson had called Clint hasn't returned to Coulson's bedside since Angrboða had nearly been unmasked. Nearly, but not entirely, and Hel frowns slightly. Her mother had either gotten better at hiding things, or the spell hadn't been strong enough. Or both, though she doesn't think even so strong a soul as Coulson could have carried a heavier burden back to the living and still been able to be believed to be himself._

_Sighing, Hel shakes her hand, loosing the threads that cling there, the spell fading into smoke and ash. Even if she did not unmask Angrboða, she rocked her, and perhaps made it clear to those around her she wasn't as she seemed. With any luck, enough for them to try to call Thor back, away from Asgard. She'd been so close to achieving at least one goal when she'd lured the princes to Jotunheim, but it had fallen apart with one foolish Jotun's ill-placed grip on Loki._

_Hopefully the mortal would do better._

* * *

When he wakes up this time, Rogers is sitting beside his bed with a pad of paper in his lap, and a pencil in hand. Sketching something that Phil couldn't see, though he knows if he asks, Rogers will show him what he's working on. It's something he's learned over the last several days, with only Rogers or Stark for company, and more often the former than the latter.

He shifts, trying to push himself upright, and Rogers looks up, opening his mouth as if to offer to help before he closes it again, waiting. He's learning, at least, though after a moment, Phil has to nod, and allow the help to get him upright. He doesn't know how long it will take to regain even the ability to simply sit up on his own, much less the full range of ability he'd had before he had died, but it's frustrating to have to rely on others in the interim.

"How are the others?" It's the same question he's asked every time he's woken up, and Rogers always is able to answer him - Stark tends to refer him to JARVIS instead.

"Banner has taken Barton a sedative to get him to rest while someone else keeps an eye on Miss Boyd. She's still not responding to anything, and she's been getting colder to the touch." Rogers rearranges the pillows behind Phil to help keep him upright. "Agent Romanov is keeping an eye on Barton while he rests, and Stark hasn't come out of his lab since last time."

That covers everyone who resides in the tower, at least as far as Phil's been able to find out. There are a few others, but he's not actually asked about anyone else, and it's clear that if Stark hasn't come out of his lab, Pepper hasn't come to visit recently. It makes him curious why she hasn't, but that's not a question he can ask Rogers.

"None of the measures to attempt to warm Miss Boyd have worked?" Phil still isn't sure what to think of the woman Clint had always spoken fondly of, once he'd mentioned her to Phil. His brief glimpse of her, before she'd been all but carried out of the room, hadn't been what he expected. Anna had been taller and paler than he'd expected from Clint's descriptions, and there'd been something else about her that he couldn't quite name.

"No." Rogers settles back into the chair, obviously here for the long haul again. "Though Banner suggested leaving the electric blanket wrapped around her with the others, in case whatever is bringing her core temperature down stops."

And leaving that blanket in place would allow them to warm her up after, though that still didn't solve the question of what mechanism or process is lowering her body temperature.

"Barton still refuses to allow her to be brought to Medical?" He's been learning what he can about the tower, as it keeps him busy, and somewhat distracted from the lack of progress on his physical recovery.

"He threatened to put an arrow through vital organs of anyone who tried to bring her here while he slept." Rogers looks troubled by that, but Phil isn't surprised - and is actually rather glad that they're keeping Anna away from here. Whatever had harmed him had occurred in this room, and there's that something strange about her that he can't quantify.

They lapse into silence for a long moment, while Phil mentally compiles what information he has, and tries to see if there's any sense to be made of it yet. He's interrupted by the door opening, and Stark coming in with a tray that Phil isn't sure he wants to know holds, especially if Stark attempted to cook. Pepper had told him of the omelet incident, and he'd seen the sort of shakes Stark preferred when he was working.

"Don't worry, all I did was reheat the leftovers." Stark sets the tray down on Phil's lap with a flourish before dropping into the chair on the far side of the bed from Rogers. "I do know how to work a microwave, despite any rumors to the contrary."

"Only when you haven't taken the microwave apart to improve it." Phil gingerly lifts the cover from the plate, relaxing when he sees the lasagne on the plate looks neither burnt nor undercooked.

"Hey, that only happened once, and how did you know about it?" Stark looks both annoyed and amused, which means Phil can safely ignore him, and does so in favor of the meal that's been brought. "JARVIS reports that Robin Hood is actually sleeping, by the way, and Bruce is reading a book while the girlfriend turns into an icicle. Everything else is still normal, which is really weird. Are we sure she isn't related to Reindeer Games and company?"

"Nothing in her background indicates anything other than human genetics." Phil still remembers the work he'd done to check into Anna after Clint had started to visit her. "Both of her parents are human, and they were able to provide details of her growing up, both in the form of paperwork and pictures."

"Pictures can be altered, and documents forged," Stark points out, tapping the fingers of one hand restlessly on his arc reactor.

"Memories are harder to forge." Phil isn't going to dismiss the possibility, but he never had the sense that the Boyds were lying about their daughter, nor that they'd been coached in any way. "Particularly when not only her parents, but an entire community remembers her as a child. Friends from school, old teachers, and neighbors. It would require more effort than most undercover agents would use to establish so complete a background."

"Then why is she doing the icicle-coma thing? And why did she react the way she did when she came in here?" Stark isn't going to let it go, probably hasn't let it go since the incident, though this is the first time he's actually brought it up in front of Phil. "Are we sure nothing was done to you while bringing you back from the dead?"

"No." Phil isn't certain something wasn't done, but he doesn't know how he can prove it, or even if he can prove it. All he can do is describe his encounters with Hel - he is reluctant to share those with anyone other than Clint and Natasha, however - and allow Stark and Banner to run every test they can think of that won't harm him in the process. "But I also don't know if there is anything that can be done to change anything that might have been done."

* * *

_Jotunheim is nearly as chill as Niflheim, but not quite, and Hel smiles beneath her hood. She has lived more of her life in the ice of the realm given to her in meager recompense for the theft of all she had been, and all she could have had on Midgard, and to walk where it is warmer is always welcome._

_"Queen Hel." A familiar figure steps from the shadows, the smile on her uncle's face as familiar as once was her mother's. "He sent a messenger in his stead, a daughter of Asgard who calls herself Sif."_

_Hel frowns slightly, before she shrugs. The plan might yet work. "So long as he takes up the offer, then it will be enough. Keep him safe, uncle." She may not be particularly fond of her father, but he, at least, has been to Niflheim to see her, as her mother may not be. And for that, she does not want to see him fall prey to her own plans, even if his plans should be ruined by her machinations to keep him safe._

_"Should I go to Asgard, then, and bring him home if he should not come himself?" Helblindi watches her with amusement, a faint smile curving his lips. "Or shall you make other plans for him if he should decide not to take up the kingship?"_

_"I shall alter my plans as needed for what he decides." Hel sighs, tilting her head back to look up at the stars above. She so rarely sees them when she's in her realm, but she takes the time to see them when she is elsewhere. "I shall have what I wish, however I must accomplish it."_

_Helblindi chuckles, and reaches out to rest his hand on her shoulder. "If ever I doubt he might be of Laufey's line, raised as he was by Odin Child-Thief, I need only look to you his daughter to know he is."_

_Meeting her uncle's gaze with eyes as red as his, Hel smiles. "And I raised in Midgard surrounded by mortals. You flatter me, uncle."_

_"I only speak the truth." Helblindi shrugs, and turns away to look over the blasted landscape that had once been a broad and smooth plain. "It serves me better than any flattery or lie."_

_"Lies are a necessity at times." Hel sighs, closing her eyes a moment before she follows her uncle's gaze. "As is flattery. But I should hope never among close kin as we."_

_"We should both hope. Both hope, too, that secrets are not needed among kin." It's a gentle reminder, and oblique question._

_"I shall not keep my secrets too much longer, uncle, but I must for a while yet." Hel has seen the plans of others fall apart for sharing too much too soon, as well as holding secrets too tightly. "There are still eyes to see and ears to hear that would see and hear too much. As soon as I might, though."_

_"So long as you wait not too much longer, niece." Helblindi falls silent after that, and they do not speak until Hel must leave, and then only words of farewell. She will visit him again when she can, and perhaps by then, her father will be safely on Jotunheim, and her plans accomplished._

* * *

"Miss Boyd woke up this morning, very early." Banner has brought breakfast this time, Stark stumbling off toward his bed half-asleep on his feet. Phil thinks Stark's been awake for a couple of days now, and suspects Rogers switched the coffee for decaf. "Natasha's gone to sleep, and Clint's with Miss Boyd. She didn't want to talk about something in front of other people."

"About me." Phil isn't surprised by the rueful smile that crosses Banner's face. "I'm not offended." He just hopes that whatever it is that she's discussing with Clint, Clint will tell him about, because if she knows something more about how Phil was brought back, he wants to know it.

"She wasn't comfortable talking about it with the rest of us there - I don't even know if she was willing to have JARVIS still monitoring the room. I didn't ask, but I do know Tony programmed him so any of us could tell him to stop monitoring our rooms."

That's also useful to know, and Phil wonders if there's a room for him that he'll be able to tell JARVIS to leave be. If, of course, he doesn't return to work after recovering, though with Fury not having sent an agent - nor having come himself - it makes Phil suspect he's been permanently benched, despite his return from the dead. Retirement is not something he'd been looking forward to.

"Has there been any contact from SHIELD regarding any of this?" Now that he's thinking about it, Phil can't help but ask.

Banner looks down a moment, visibly uncomfortable with some aspect of the question. "We discussed it before you woke up, and Natasha sent them a report telling them there was nothing out of the ordinary at the location - just a false alarm, or maybe someone trying to play games with us."

Which means Fury and SHIELD are theoretically unaware that he's even still alive, much less any of the rest of it. "And Fury hasn't attempted to hack JARVIS, and check on everything himself?"

"Not that Tony has mentioned." Banner glances at the tray of food that Phil is slowly working his way through, likely gauging his appetite, and trying to establish some sort of baseline for the resurrected dead. "We're hoping that Natasha's report will be enough to keep Fury from asking questions for a little while yet."

"Not too much longer, not with Clint back from his down-time earlier than he should be." And especially not with coming straight here, instead of to Anna's, and coming here on his own. Fury will want to know why Clint brought his civilian girlfriend here, of all places. "Does Stark have protocols in place to deal with that?"

"If I may interrupt?" JARVIS sounds as unruffled as ever, but Phil knows that's part of his programming - though why he always finds it amusing that JARVIS is as calm as he himself manages to project, Phil isn't quite sure. "Mr. Stark has established protocols for Director Fury, or and other SHIELD agents attempting to enter the Tower. Should Director Fury attempt to enter the building, a full lock-down will be instigated, with power cut from all non-vital functions, including elevators, stairwell doors, and myself."

Which will leave them stranded and trapped, though Phil hopes Stark took that into account in case of emergency. "And the door from Mr. Stark's balcony?"

"That entire area will be sealed off in case of a full lock-down, sir."

Which means even if Fury does hear about Phil's return from the dead, he's not going to be allowed access unless Stark allows it, or Phil is well enough to leave the Tower. He finds himself oddly comfortable with that, though it still concerns him that SHIELD is being kept out of the loop.

"Is there a reason you wanted to keep my resurrection a secret?" Phil looks over at Banner, though it's a long moment before the other man looks up and meets his gaze.

"Director Fury told everyone other than me and Thor that you were dead in order to bring the team together. No one took it well, and no one wants Fury to make you disappear now that you're not dead." Banner smiles briefly, one corner of his mouth quirking up. "You're one of us. The only one of us who could bring the team together. We may be all of us damaged, but we all know how to take care of our own, and to protect our own."

That is a sentiment that Phil hadn't expected to hear - he'd been certain the team needed an incentive to bring them together, but he had thought himself just a convenient reason, rather than the only reason. It's more unsettling than his encounters with Hel, and when Banner gives him a concerned look, Phil suspects he hasn't hidden how much that means to him as well as he'd hoped.

* * *

_She sits with her feet tucked under her, one hand stroking gently the fur at her brother's neck, glaring at the sword that gleams wet with blood, driven through his jaws into the rock below him. "I would take this from you if I did not fear it would trigger Ragnorak." Her voice is a bare whisper in the gloom of the cave. "And then all plans are for naught."_

_A sigh and a whine are all her answer, but Hel has learned to listen to what is not said, to the whisper in the back of her mind that is her brother's voice. He cannot speak as once he did, as a child, but he can still communicate to those who are his close kin._

_"If I can find a way to free you that will not trigger Ragnorak, I shall. All of us, together again, if I can manage it." Hel leans into her brother, and his tail thumps against the floor of the cave. "But not yet. There is still much to do, and I must wait upon certain plans to unfold, with the mortal and with Father."_

_A soft bark that's almost a chuckle, and another thump of her brother's tail. Approval, and affection, and it's all Hel has ever needed from her brother. He cannot protect her, neither of them can, so she will take on that role, and protect them both._

* * *

"Anna won't come here." Clint had brought lunch, and has been sitting in the chair next to Phil's bed for the last hour or so. He can't see a clock to be certain of the time, but he trusts his internal clock to be relatively accurate. "There's something - she called it a seiðr weaving, which is some kind of spell, I think - wrapped around you, that pushed her off-balance."

"Is it something that can be removed?" Phil doesn't think that's all of it, but he also doesn't think Clint's going to share the rest of it yet. Not until he's comfortable retelling whatever story Anna told him.

"She doesn't know, but if it can, not by her." Clint leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "I mentioned it to Stark, and he's working on trying to make something to detect it. Might give us an idea what it looks like, maybe find a way to unravel it."

If whatever it is that harmed Anna isn't an intrinsic part of what brought him back from the dead. Phil isn't sure what they'll do if that's the case - the choice between possibly being a danger to others and being dead isn't really a choice he likes the idea of. It's one that he can make, but he doesn't want to have to.

"Is Miss Boyd all right now?"

Clint shrugs, a troubled frown crossing over his face. "Mostly." He's quiet for a long moment, staring past Phil at the wall. "She told me a story about someone called Angrboða, before Nat called to tell me about you. Like she was telling a story about her past."

After the incident with Thor in New Mexico, Phil had researched everything he could about Norse mythology, and particularly Thor and Loki. Angrboða had been one of the peripheral characters, mentioned in relation to Loki and three monstrous children. What he'd seen of Anna in that brief few moments a week ago could fit with the description, for the most part.

"I knew it wasn't just a story, but it had to have been long enough ago that it's hard to really accept that it's real, even after dealing with Loki and Thor." Clint sighs, looking down at his hands. "Didn't really sink in until she woke up yesterday. I mean, she's still Anna, but she's not."

There's something more that Clint's not saying, and Phil doesn't ask. Clint will talk about it now with Phil, or he'll talk about it later with Natasha, or he'll work it out on a range or in a gym. It's how he'd dealt with things before, when Phil was his handler, and he doubts that's changed in the last few weeks.

"Hel is her daughter." Phil knows that much from his research, and he wonders if this is why Hel had taken an interest in him in the first place - if this is why she had returned him to life, in order to do something to her own mother.

"Yeah. She talked about her." Clint runs a hand through his hair, looking over at Phil again. "She thinks Loki kidnapped Hel out of her home when she was just a girl, probably a teenager."

"It's possible." Phil doesn't think it was Loki, though, despite the sort of harm the Asgardian had done while on Earth. "There's nothing in the mythology to tell who took her children - it only mentions that they were stolen out of her hall."

"Loki took both the older two." Clint's expression is momentarily lost, then he blinks it away. "Brothers, years apart. A lifetime, I think she said - maybe thirty, fourty years?"

If she were referring to a human lifespan of the time, probably, but maybe more, if she were talking about a modern human lifespan. Phil just nods, hoping they're right on the time frame, though why it should be important he's not quite certain.

* * *

_The water would be an intolerable pressure if she were physically present, but Midgard is the one realm she's never been able to return to since Odin Child-Thief had stolen her from her mother. Still, this is her brother's domain, and she can at least project a seeming woven of seiðr here._

_Jörmungandr's voice is a rumble in her head, words where Fenrir would only be able to provide impressions. /You are well, little sister?/_

_Hel smiles, intangible fingers tracing along the ridges of his head, curved scales that radiate the heat of the rift along which he lies. /Well and well-aided. I would wish you home, if it would be safe./_

_A chuckle makes the earth around him tremble for a brief moment, and one coal-bright red eye opens to look at her for a moment. /I am fond of this form, no matter that I know I might look in part as you or father. And there are few places that might accomodate my size save here./_

_Sighing, Hel shrugs, once more tracing the curved scales of his head. /I can but make the offer, not force you to take it up. I would that I could free Fenrir, for his fate is worse./_

_There is a rumble of discontent from Jörmungandr, a shift of his body that will cause earthquakes that the mortals will attribute to Midgard's unstable surface. /His punishment for existing, and for being the child of our father. It may not be just, but do call it as it is, little sister./_

_/It is no punishment, it is a torture./ Hel closes her eyes, reining in her own anger at what has been done to her and her brothers. /And it is fate, for we can neither of us help him without triggering Ragnorak. Cruel fate, but it has happened before, and will again if we are not careful./_

_Jörmungandr sighs, a trail of bubbles trickling past Hel toward the surface. /You shall find it, little sister. You are the most free of us all, and you have the mortals you send back to infuriate the Child-Thief. If we cannot find a loophole, perhaps they will./_

_/Perhaps./ Hel strokes her brother's head once more before she nods a goodbye, and lets go of the weaving._


End file.
